


Playing Dirty

by fourth_rose



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Homophobia, Insecurities, Light Bondage, M/M, Post-Hogwarts, Sexual Fantasy, Trust Issues, written before book 7
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-09
Updated: 2012-11-09
Packaged: 2017-11-18 07:19:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/558333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fourth_rose/pseuds/fourth_rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco has issues. Harry is surprisingly perceptive, determined as ever, and rather good with his mouth.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Playing Dirty

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written before "Deathly Hallows", and is therefore only canon-compliant up to book 6.

"Is it in yet?"

 

"If you ask that question one more time, Malfoy, I'm going to kill you when we're finished here!"

 

"Well, is it?"

 

"No, it fucking well isn't because you're not HOLDING STILL!"

 

"What on earth is taking you so long? My arms are starting to cramp, Potter!"

 

"Don't you dare move! Don't... ARGH!"

 

"What is it now?"

 

"You almost dislocated my shoulder!"

 

"Well, I'm almost sorry. Is it..."

 

"Didn't you hear what I said before? I'll give it one more try, but if it doesn't work then, I'll... hey!"

 

"What?"

 

"I think it's in. I heard it snap. Let me see..."

 

"Are you sure it's in the whole way? I have no desire to repeat this stunt in an hour!"

 

"Yes, I _am_ sure. And just so you know, if this damned pipe comes loose again, _you_ can bloody well hang from the gutter by one hand until you fix it. Which I doubt you'll manage."

 

"That's because I wasn't born to be a plumber, Potter."

 

"No, you were born to be a complete pain in the arse. Now let go of me so I can get down; I wasn't planning to spend the whole night dangling from the roof!"

 

 

+++

 

 

Harry seemed to calm down once he had shaken most of the water out of his hair and had put his clothes back on. Although his own teeth were still chattering, Draco silently congratulated himself for suggesting that they strip completely before making a foray out into the pouring rain to fix the leaking junction in the gutter. It had taken some persuasion – Harry could be astoundingly prudish at times –  but it had been well worth the effort. After all, they now had a place to sleep where water _didn't_ drip from the ceiling _and_ dry clothes to sleep in.

 

Still, it was going to be a rather uncomfortable night. Draco looked around with a sigh. The little hut they had found just when it had started to rain had seemed like a godsend at the time, but it was empty except for the cobwebs in the corners. There were wet patches on the uneven floor, and the wind was howling through the cracks in the small windows.

 

For the umpteenth time, Draco cursed the Dark Lord and his booby-trapped legacy. Harry and Draco had been on the trail of the fifth Horcrux for seven months before finally discovering and destroying it three days ago. However, the destruction of the damned thing had triggered some strange kind of dampening effect that suppressed all magic in the surrounding area. Therefore, their Portkey back to Auror headquarters was of no use. Since they couldn't Apparate either, they had to make their way back through one of the most deserted areas of Northern Scotland on foot, which they had been doing for more than two days now.

 

The fact that their wands were _still_ useless caused Draco to suspect that they hadn't got very far yet. He felt that he had every reason to feel a bit cranky by now, and Harry's almost superhuman cheer had begun to grate on his nerves. Funny that it had taken a broken gutter to finally get the great Harry Potter to lose it.

 

That, and some complaining done in the best Malfoy style, of course.

 

Harry had started rummaging in his backpack which held their food supplies. Draco made a face and swore to himself that once they got back, he would _never_ eat Ministry field rations again. Their mission, if they survived it, had been intended to last a few hours at most. As such, Draco should probably be glad that Harry had even bothered to bring rations. However, after three days on the tasteless stuff, he felt sickened just thinking about it.

 

"Potter, stop it. I'm not starved enough yet to eat more field rations."

 

With a sigh, Harry put the backpack aside. "Actually, neither am I. Let's go to sleep, I feel dead on my feet."

 

After some searching in the fading daylight, they found a corner of the hut that was still moderately dry and lay down there on Draco's cloak, using Harry's as a blanket. It was still cold, and Draco thankfully leaned into the warmth that always seemed to radiate from Harry's body. Harry, obviously misunderstanding the gesture, snuggled up to him. When Draco pointedly turned away, Harry spooned against his back and slung an arm around Draco's waist.

 

Draco frowned in the rapidly falling darkness. This... cuddliness that Harry had developed recently was a bit irritating. Yes, they had been fighting on the same side for years now, and they had found their way into each other's bed on a regular basis ever since they realized that no-one else in the Auror corps swung their way. Slim pickings, Draco reasoned, made for unexpected fuck buddies – because that was all they were as far as he was concerned. They still got on each other's nerves and had huge rows every second day. Even if he had become quite used to Potter's company over the years, he had no desire to let things get out of hand. Malfoys married for profit and had affairs for entertainment, but they definitely didn't do _relationships_.

 

He'd probably have to explain this to Potter one day, even if it would result in days of sulking and wounded looks worthy of a kicked puppy.

 

Draco sighed again and closed his eyes. Sometimes he wondered if the privilege of getting buggered by the Hero of the Wizarding World really was worth the hassle.

 

 

+++

 

 

He was just drifting off to sleep when he felt Harry's hand slide between his legs to cup him through his jeans. Suddenly wide awake, he reached down and shoved it aside. "You can't be serious."

 

Warm breath tickled the back of his neck when Harry murmured, "Why not? Seeing you wearing nothing but raindrops reminded me that I've barely got to touch you in weeks – "

 

"I don't care how horny you are! It's cold, dirty, and pitch dark in here, and we can't use magic to remedy any of these things!"

 

"So what? Afraid I won't find your arse in the darkness?"

 

Even if Potter wouldn't see it, Draco couldn't resist the urge to roll his eyes. "Potter, listen to me. First, it's freezing cold, so I utterly refuse to take off my clothes again. Second, I doubt you pilfered the Dark Lord's secret stash of hand lotion on our way out, and I sure as hell won't be fucked dry. Third, the only contact with water either of us has had for three days has been being rained on. I will not let any part of my naked body get in contact with yours as long as we're both this filthy. I won't even kiss you before we've both cleaned our teeth and shaved. Do I make myself clear?"

 

"Perfectly." Was that a chuckle in Harry's voice? It had sounded almost... devious.

 

In the next moment, Draco found himself on his back with Harry on top of him. Grabbing his wrists, Harry pinned them together over Draco's head with both his own hands in one swift movement so that his full weight was now resting against Draco's body.

 

"Potter," hissed Draco, trying hard to sound as annoyed as possible, "what exactly do you think you're doing?"

 

He felt the stubble on Harry's cheek graze over his face as Harry leaned down to whisper in his ear. "I want to promise you something."

 

He ground his hips down and Draco couldn't help gasping. "What, to squash me to death?"

 

"Don't tell me you don't like it." Harry pushed down again, harder this time. "Because I can _feel_ how much you like it, Malfoy."

 

Draco clenched his teeth and cursed his traitorous body, which was indeed responding enthusiastically to the pressure of Harry's weight on him despite the discomfort of the wooden floor underneath.

 

"Anyway," continued Harry, his lips tickling Draco's ear as he spoke, "since you're too prissy to get it on without three hours of grooming beforehand, I'll tell you what I promise to do to you to make up for this missed opportunity when we're back at headquarters. Just to give us both something to look forward to."

 

"Oh?" Draco had intended to sound haughty, but he didn't quite manage it as Harry chose that precise moment to start rocking against him. "What makes you think I will let you do _anything_ to me once we get back?"

 

"You will." Harry fell into a maddeningly slow rhythm of little thrusts, and Draco bit his lip in frustration. "I'll make sure you like it. Now shut up and listen."

 

Any scathing reply that Draco had wanted to come up with was lost forever when Harry adjusted his position a little so that his cock was now brushing against Draco's through various layers of clothing with every move of his hips. All that Draco managed instead was another gasp.

 

He _felt_ the grin on Harry's face against his cheek. "There's a good boy, Malfoy. All right... when we're back, I promise to invite you to my quarters because they're much nicer than yours. Once I've got you there, I promise to take off all your clothes - slowly, and without touching your perfect skin with my filthy hands. Then I promise to take off mine... while you're watching." Harry's voice lowered to a whisper. "Don't think I haven't noticed that you like eyeing me while I undress. Well, I promise to give you an eyeful then."

 

Draco tried to wrench his hands out of Harry's grip, but Harry's fingers dug into his wrists as he held them firmly in place.

 

"Next, I promise to get into the shower with you. My shower isn't very big, so I'll have to lean against you when I reach over to turn on the water. After that, I promise to push you under the spray and start lathering you all over."

 

Harry was speeding up his thrusts a little now, although not as much as Draco would have liked him to. "Imagine my hands, all slick with soap, sliding over your body. Over your neck, your chest, your nipples, down to your stomach, then over your thighs, down on the outside and up again on the inside. Then over your back down to your arse, over both cheeks and in between... imagine me pushing my finger inside you just a tiny bit then..."

 

"...burns..." Draco managed to protest weakly.

 

Harry grinned again. "I promise you won't mind… because my _other_ hand will go to your cock at the same time. I promise to make sure you're _very_ clean when I'm finished with you, but still hard as a rock because I won't let you come."

 

"Bastard," Draco murmured, jerking upwards in an attempt to make Harry move faster.

 

In response, Harry pushed down hard and chuckled in triumph when Draco let out a startled yelp. "Behave. I'll be generous and let you wash your precious hair yourself while I get cleaned up. But I promise to towel you dry when we're done. And then I promise to take you to my bedroom."

 

With that, Harry let go of Draco's wrists and wedged his forearms under the other man's shoulders, propping himself up on his elbows and thus doubling the pressure of his hips on Draco's groin. Draco arched into it, eager to increase the friction. His arms came up to clutch at Harry's shoulders, and hooking his heels behind Harry's calves, he tried to pull him even closer. Up until now, he'd considered frottage a thing for fumbling schoolboys, but perhaps that judgement had been overly harsh. Or he was just desperate to get off. It _had_ been a while, after all.

 

"Easy, Malfoy, we're not nearly done yet." Harry's tone was light, but he had started to sound a bit breathless himself. He was rocking against Draco again, still far too slow for Draco's liking. His jeans felt so tight by now that he half expected the top button to pop off any moment.

 

"This will be the time to put my wand to good use. No, not _that_ wand. Not yet anyway." Once again Draco felt Harry grin against his cheek. "I'll cast a nice Bodybind so that you won't be able to move a muscle. I can't wait to see you on my bed like this, naked and utterly helpless, hard and aching for me to touch you." He ground his cheek into Draco's as if he wanted to make sure they'd both have stubble burn for days. "Then, Malfoy, because you're so concerned about not shaving, I promise to give you a shave… not with magic, but with a straight razor. I'm pretty sure you'll appreciate it."

 

Draco went rigid. "Potter, if you think I'll let you anywhere near my neck with a bloody knife – "

 

"Oh, you will." Harry _finally_ sped up his thrusts; Draco's breath hitched when Harry's erection pushed almost painfully against his own. He was quite grateful for the fact that his boxers were silk; he'd be chafed raw otherwise. "For all your complaining, you love the idea of being at my mercy. Imagine the blade sliding over your throat, cool and sharp and deadly, while you know that all I need to do is press down a little too hard and that you can do nothing but trust that I won't…"

 

"God." It was half a moan, half a sob; utterly undignified, but Draco was past caring. "Harry, _please_ …"

 

"Shhhhh." Harry was panting now, but he still kept talking. "After that, I promise to leave no inch of your skin unkissed, starting with the tips of your fingers and working my way down to your toes. I can't wait to lick all your ticklish spots and watch you not being able to squirm." Draco _did_ squirm underneath him at this, jerking up his hips with the rhythm of Harry's thrusts, desperate to get _more_.

 

Harry's breath was coming in harsh gasps, his voice hoarse in Draco's ear as he continued. "I promise… not to touch your cock during all this… not until I release you from the spell and... you are _begging_ me to…" As if from a great distance, Draco heard himself moan again. His heart was hammering against his ribs, heat pooling in his groin; all he could do was dig his fingers into the fabric of Harry's sweat-soaked shirt and urge him on…harder, faster, _please_ …

 

"Then... and only then... I promise to go down on you... to suck you until you're screaming... until you're coming so hard into my mouth that you're seeing stars..."

 

That image, together with the feeling of Harry's whole body tensing against him, at last pushed Draco over the edge. The entire world seemed to have contracted into the heat, the touch, the smell of Harry, and he arched into him with a strangled cry as waves of white-hot pleasure washed over him.

 

How could Harry possibly still _talk_ at this point? He was clinging to Draco so forcefully that it was becoming difficult to breathe, hips grinding down in an almost frenzied pace, but between gasps for air he managed to whisper, "Finally, I promise..."

 

Through a haze of sudden dizziness, Draco heard him struggle to continue, "...I promise... to fuck you until... until nothing else matters to you any more... nothing but the feeling of me inside you..." It seemed that he had wanted to say more, but everything else was lost in a low, drawn-out groan. Harry thrust against Draco one last time and then, panting, collapsed on top of him.H

 

 

 

+++

 

 

It took Draco some time to get his breath back, and even longer to fully reassess his surroundings. His clothes were sticky with sweat and come and his back hurt from the hard wooden floor. Harry had, thankfully, rolled off of him and seemed to be doing that snuggling thing again, with his arm around Draco's chest and his head nestled in the crook of Draco's neck.

 

He heard Harry's soft laugh close to his ear when he stirred. "Back among the living, hm?" Harry's voice, Draco noticed with a certain degree of satisfaction, was still rather unsteady, but he was sounding far too smug for Draco's liking.

 

"Yes, and a lot filthier than before thanks to your underhand tactics."

 

"You didn't seem to mind at the time."

 

" _You_ didn't seem too worried about my opinion on the matter, Potter. Or did you ever bother to ask if I wanted all these things you so generously promised me?"

 

"Oh, come _on_ , you insufferable git." Harry hadn't taken the bait; his voice didn't lose the warm, lazy quality of utter contentment. "Draco, I know that you'd rather die than admit this when you're not two seconds away from coming, but you _love_ it when I'm taking charge. For all your whining, you're practically melting whenever I touch you, and I should probably tell you that you're not fooling me any longer."

 

This statement was hitting way too close to home for Draco's comfort. When had the oblivious Gryffindor become so perceptive? If Draco let him get away with such a bold statement, he might just as well give in here and now, move into Harry's quarters and start referring to him as 'my boyfriend'.

 

Time to restore the balance of power between them before Harry got the wrong idea. "All right, then. I'm going to promise you something too."

 

"What would that be?" Harry was all but purring now.

 

"When you get to the last stage of your depraved little scenario..."

 

"Yes?" Oh, how Draco loved that breathless sound of Harry's voice. He turned his head until his cheek touched Harry's, so that Harry could feel the smirk on his face as he whispered in his ear:

 

"...I promise not to ask 'Is it in yet?' anymore."

 


	2. Coming Clean

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry has issues. Draco is surprisingly determined, devious as ever, and rather good at getting what he wants.

They only noticed that they'd finally passed past the range of Voldemort's dampening hex when the Portkey, which Harry was holding while they walked, suddenly activated.

 

Harry barely had time to grab Draco's shoulder before he felt the familiar jerk behind his navel. When the world stopped spinning, they found themselves in the office of the Auror on duty, who turned out to be Alastor Moody.

 

He seemed completely unfazed by their sudden appearance. His magical eye swept over them once before he growled, "Took you long enough. Did you destroy the damned thing?"

 

Taking a deep, relieved breath, Harry nodded briskly. "We did. You'll have our report first thing in the morning tomorrow."

 

Moody leaned back in his chair behind the huge desk; the scars on his face moved into strange new patterns as he frowned. "Tomorrow? Let's hear it now, Potter."

 

Harry wanted to reply, but Draco was faster. "We've just come back from a dangerous and exhausting field mission, tired and covered in dirt from head to toe, and you expect a report _now_?"

 

Moody gave him a cold look. "I'm not expecting anything from _you_ , Malfoy. Go to bed or drown yourself in your bath tub for all I care. I'm interested in Potter's report, not yours."

 

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco silenced him with a glance. He turned on his heel and left the room without another word. The door slammed shut behind him.

 

+++

 

"...and then the Portkey activated, and we were here. That's it." It had taken Harry almost an hour to give Moody every detail of what had happened, and he was thoroughly exhausted now. He risked a glance at the clock on the wall, hoping that Moody would get the message. It was only a quarter to ten p.m., but it felt much later to him. Moody nodded slowly, his gnarled fingers drumming on the desktop. "That's five down, two more to go."

 

Harry sighed. "Yes, but I hope the question how to find the next one can wait until tomorrow."

 

Moody's scarred face broke into a grin. "I suppose it'll have to, you look dead on your feet. If there's nothing else, you can..."

 

"Actually, there is," Harry interrupted. He would have loved nothing more than to go to his quarters – or Draco's – and forget the war for now, but there was something he had to address. "Why do you have to keep treating Malfoy the way you do? He's on our side, in case you hadn't noticed, and this mission's success was as much his achievement as it was mine."

 

Moody shook his head with a deep sigh. "Listen, I know you've got that noble hero thing going on, but believe me when I say that this one isn't worth your saviour antics. He betrayed his master to save his hide, but that doesn't mean he's changed. That whole family is rotten to the core, there's nothing to be done about it. Besides, I know it's no longer fashionable to speak frankly about these things, but he's a disgusting little poof, and if I'd had any say in the matter, he'd never have been chosen as your partner. You're a good man, Potter, you shouldn't have to work together with his sort."

 

He obviously mistook Harry's stunned silence for agreement, because he went on, "But there's nothing that can be done about it tonight. My shift is over in ten minutes, and you'd better leave before Kingsley shows up and questions you until midnight. Go to bed and get some sleep, there's a lot to do tomorrow."

 

"But I..."

 

Moody cut him off with an impatient wave of his hand. " _Tomorrow_ , Potter."

 

+++

 

Harry thought longingly about the return scenario that he'd promised Draco just twenty-four hours ago. When he knocked on the door of Draco's quarters, he was aware that the chances of things actually happening that way tonight were slim at best, given the mood Draco was bound to be in now.

 

Draco was barefoot and wearing a bathrobe when he opened the door; his hair was wet, and whatever lingering hope Harry still might have had evaporated at the sight.

 

Draco must have noticed Harry's stricken look because he raised a pale eyebrow. "Why the sour face, oh Chosen One? Didn't Moody praise you sufficiently?"

 

Harry shoved him aside and, stepping into the room, closed the door behind him with more force that was strictly necessary. "It's not my fault he's treating you -"

 

"- like shit?" Draco suggested. "No, I guess not. He's hated me from the day I first set foot into this building. Why do you think I was given this closet-sized rat hole to live in?"

 

"Do you really think he _made them_ give you the quarters next to his?"

 

"You bet he did; he's watching me like a hawk. If I hadn't set up double Disillusionment Wards and Silencing Spells, he'd probably be monitoring my every move in here, too." He gave Harry a rather dirty smile. "Thank God we always fuck in _your_ quarters, or I wouldn't be the only one he keeps calling a poof."

 

Harry was too taken aback to stop himself from blurting out, "How do you know he -"

 

"Oh, so he did it again? Well, I'm sure you went out of your way to defend me."

 

"If you must know, I did defend you, you prick. I was just stunned he'd actually call you that to my face."

 

Draco shrugged. "It's not as if he hasn't said it to my face, too." He noticed Harry's shocked expression and sneered. "Don't worry, I didn't point out that I shared this particular aberration with the great and noble Harry Potter. Your dirty little secret is safe with me."

 

At this, Harry's temper finally flared. "For fuck's sake, Draco, you were the one who wanted to keep this out of the headlines!"

 

"Oh, really?" Draco's tone was icily calm. "The way I recall it, _you_ assumed I didn't want people to find out, and I didn't bother to correct you because you're obviously very fond of your comfy little closet."

 

Harry's mouth dropped open. "You want people to know about... us? Are you serious?"

 

"I'm not saying I _want_ everyone to know, I just wouldn't care if they did. It's no secret that I'm gay, and those who already hate my guts can hardly hate me more, can they? You, on the other hand, are clearly not ready to disabuse the _Prophet_ of the notion that you'll return to the Weasleyette's side the moment the war is over. Perhaps you really should – who knows, she might be able to straighten you out after all!"

 

This jibe was so unfair that Harry felt as if Draco had slapped him. "Damn it, Draco, why don't you tell me what you really want, then?"

 

"Because that's the first time you've ever asked me," Draco replied evenly.

 

Harry stared at him. "What? I've – "

 

" – never asked, just presumed," Draco finished the sentence. "For example, I don't recall you ever asking if I actually wanted to bottom every bloody time we're having sex!"

 

"You said you liked bottoming!"

 

"And I do, but I certainly didn't mean all the time! But since you absolutely have to be topping because it gives you the feeling of being the one in charge, you just quietly assume that it's what I want too, when I'm merely agreeing to avoid the fuss you'd make otherwise."

 

"Does that mean you think I'd refuse to bottom for you?"

 

Draco snorted. "Unless I'm very much mistaken, you've never bottomed for anyone, have you?"

 

Harry felt his face heat up and hated himself for it. "You know I wasn't very experienced before you."

 

"That's not the point. The thing is, you're obsessed with being in control of everything. You keep giving me instructions every time I get to do anything to you, and that's not that often in the first place. I'm getting heartily sick of being your toy!"

 

Harry took a deep, calming breath to prevent himself from saying something he might regret. "That's a bit rich, considering that you keep pushing me away whenever I try to make you understand you're more than just a plaything to me."

 

Draco's expression shuttered. "Don't try to change the subject."

 

"I'm not." Harry took a deliberate step closer. "Okay, perhaps you're right, and I'm having control issues. But at least I can admit it, while you keep denying _your_ issues with any kind of... intimacy!"

 

Now it was Draco's turn to stare. " _Intimacy_ issues? After everything we've been doing together for a year now?"

 

"Aren't you always telling me it's 'just fucking'? If I hear you say it one more time I'll start to scream!"

 

Draco threw up his hands in exasperation. "So now I have to declare my undying love for you before I'm allowed to bend over? For pity's sake, Potter, what do you want from me?"

 

Harry closed his eyes for a moment, trying to calm down. When he opened them again, he knew what to do, even if he wasn't sure what he was getting himself into. "Tonight," he said simply. "Tonight is what I want from you. Here, in your place, on your terms."

 

Draco's eyes narrowed. "On _my_ terms? Are you serious?"

 

Harry nodded slowly. He took his wand out of his pocket and, after a moment's pause, put it on the desk next to him. They both knew he could still hold his own wandless, but he was sure Draco understood the gesture. "I'm serious."

 

Draco seemed to consider the offer for a little while; when he finally smiled, Harry couldn't help finding his expression both alluring and alarming. "Well, well," he drawled, "this could be interesting."

 

He leaned in to whisper in Harry's ear, his lips so close that their warmth made Harry's skin prickle. "Remember last night, when you told me what you wanted to do to me once we got back?"

 

Harry swallowed and nodded, his heart rate already speeding up from Draco's proximity and sultry tone.

 

"Then these are my terms, Harry: we'll do everything you said – the other way round. Tonight, I'll be the one in charge, and you get to experience your little fantasy from the receiving end for a change."

 

Harry hesitated; this was somewhat unexpected. But he had agreed, so he nodded again and tried to ignore the nervous flutter in his stomach. "Okay."

 

Draco's predatory smile did nothing to ease his nervousness, even if it caused a hot rush of blood to his groin at the same time. "Let's see if I remember this correctly. The first step was undressing without touching, wasn't it?"

 

At a lazy wave of Draco's wand, Harry felt his clothes begin to peel away from his skin. He didn't know this particular spell, but as he watched buttons and zippers coming open on their own accord and one garment after the other lazily sliding down to the floor, he made a mental note to ask Draco to teach it to him. Finally he stepped out of his trousers and underpants which were pooled around his ankles and tried not to blush under Draco's piercing stare. He wasn't used to this kind of scrutiny, and he was secretly glad he'd cast a quick Cleaning Charm on himself before coming here.

 

Draco smirked when he lowered his gaze. "Enjoying yourself, are you?"

 

"Yes," Harry replied truthfully, "what about you?"

 

Draco untied the bathrobe and shrugged it off, revealing the fact that he was just as hard as Harry. "I certainly am. The next stage was the bathroom, wasn't it?"

 

"Yes, but you've already showered." Harry was quite disappointed; he'd really been looking forward to this part.

 

Draco wrinkled his nose. "You, however, haven't, and if I'm to have my wicked way with you tonight, that sloppy Cleaning Charm you seem to have performed definitely won't do. Come on."

 

+++

 

Harry would never have thought that something could feel so good and so bloody frustrating at the same time. He was lying in Draco's bath tub, drowned in the spicy scent of a bright blue bubble bath, his back resting against Draco's chest. Draco was busy with a washcloth, the slippery fabric slowly making its way over Harry's body, touching and caressing everywhere but where Harry most wanted it to. The hot water was soothing his sore muscles, and it would all have been wonderfully relaxing if it hadn't been for the desperate throbbing of his neglected cock. He could feel Draco's hardness pressing against the small of his back, but Draco didn't seem overly bothered by it. His heartbeat against Harry's skin was slow and steady, and he was actually _humming_ to himself while he kept driving Harry mad with desire.

 

Finally Harry couldn't stand it any longer. He half-turned his head so that his cheek was pressed against Draco's – idly noticing the prissy git had even shaved already – and whispered, "Draco, please..."

 

This earned him a smack on the shoulder. "Shut up, Potter. You don't get to ask for anything tonight, remember?"

 

Harry rubbed the stinging spot. "I'm not into spanking, you know."

 

"Yes, I know." Harry felt Draco's smile against his cheek. "You never asked if I was, though."

 

Harry winced, sudden images of whips and chains filling his mind. "Are you?"

 

"No." The washcloth made a slow swipe over Harry's nipples, and he couldn't bite back a moan. "Stop fretting and enjoy this."

 

Harry obediently lay back again and closed his eyes, concentrating on the feeling of Draco's hands on his body. He sighed in relief when they drifted lower at last, but Draco obviously felt he hadn't teased him enough yet; he just touched Harry's cock with his fingertips, stroking so gently that Harry's hips snapped up almost on their own accord in a desperate attempt to increase the friction. Draco would have none of it, though. He quickly snatched his hand away and, pressing the flat of his palm against Harry's stomach, pushed him down again. "Will you behave? I'm perfectly sure you mentioned something about not being allowed to come at this stage – as well as this..."

 

Harry stiffened when he felt Draco's free hand sliding down the small of his back and dipping into the cleft between his cheeks. Draco must have felt it, because he chuckled softly. "No need to get nervous yet, I think you said 'just a little bit', didn't you?"

 

Taking a deep breath, Harry did his best to relax against Draco's touch. Once he'd got over his initial discomfort, it wasn't hard to do, and he quickly found that despite the slight burning sensation, he rather enjoyed the feeling of Draco's finger pressing into him. He fleetingly wondered if Draco would realize at some point that this wasn't as new to him as Draco believed – he'd never mentioned it, but he _had_ bottomed a few times in the past. It had always happened with strangers he'd picked up in Muggle bars, never with someone who knew who he was. At that time, he'd only begun to come to terms with the realisation that he was interested in men, but he'd soon discovered that he had no problem with letting some nameless one-night stand fuck him. It had always seemed out of the question to give someone who knew that he had the hero of the wizarding world in his bed this kind of power over him, though. Perhaps Draco really had been on to something with his accusation about Harry's control issues.

 

His musings came to an abrupt end when Draco's free hand reached for the washcloth once more and went back to Harry's cock. "Don't get your hopes up," he said in a tone that was so smug it would have made Harry want to strangle him if he hadn't been so horny, "for now it's just about getting you cleaned up, not getting you off."

 

Harry hissed at the feeling of rough fabric on oversensitive skin when Draco gave his cock and balls a few firm swipes with the washcloth. The hiss turned into a sigh as the finger inside him pushed a bit further, but before he could fully enjoy the sensation, Draco withdrew both his hands, leaving Harry panting with frustrated arousal. "Easy, Potter," he said in the same, infuriatingly smug tone. "We're not _nearly_ done yet."

 

+++

 

By the time they finally made it into Draco's candle-lit bedroom, Harry was almost jumping out of his skin. Draco had taken his sweet time washing Harry's hair, and under different circumstances, Harry might even have enjoyed the feeling of Draco's hands deftly massaging his scalp. Tonight, however, it had been utter torture. After he'd finally been allowed to climb out of the tub, Draco had made things even worse by insisting on towelling him dry and then casting half a dozen specialized Cleaning Charms that tingled in all kinds of interesting places. When Draco was satisfied at last, Harry was so hard that he wondered if he'd even make it to the bedroom before he came from sheer anticipation – something Draco would _never_ let him live down.

 

His excitement abated somewhat when Draco closed the door and turned to face him, wand in hand. His expression was determined, and Harry felt the nervous flutter in his stomach return when he recalled that he'd agreed to throw himself at Draco's mercy now. It wasn't that he didn't trust Draco, but the idea of being utterly helpless without any say in what was going to happen to him suddenly didn't hold the slightest bit of attraction any longer.

 

Draco gave him a calculating look, and although they were both equally naked, Harry felt strangely vulnerable under his gaze. His discomfort must have shown, because the corner of Draco's mouth quirked up in a smile that had no humour in it. "Second thoughts, Potter? I can't say I'm surprised."

 

At a different time, the disdainful tone would have made Harry bristle, but there was something underneath the contempt in Draco's voice that kept his hackles from rising. He took a deep breath and tried to ignore the fact that his heart was suddenly in his throat. "All right, I'm a bit uncomfortable. I'm not going to back out, though."

 

"Very well." Draco made a sweeping gesture with his wand. "Then get on the bed."

 

He didn't sound overly bossy, but Harry understood very well that the command was another test of his willingness to go through with this, and it began to dawn on him that this might be more important to Draco than he'd first thought. He stretched out on his back and tried to get comfortable with his position as open as possible, his legs slightly spread and his arms raised over his head. The green satin of the bedcovers felt cool under his skin, but the shiver that went through him had little to do with that.

 

Draco stood at the foot of the bed; he was too far away for Harry to see him clearly without his glasses, but it seemed that he was worrying his lower lip with his teeth as if he were trying to decide how to proceed. "Ready?"

 

Harry nodded and tried to make his voice as firm as possible. "I'm ready."

 

Draco raised his wand, and Harry braced himself for the Body-Bind he had brought up himself the night before. If they'd gone through with the scenario he had intended then, would it have made Draco feel as vulnerable and exposed as he did now? He'd never even considered it before, but now he couldn't help wondering.

 

Draco seemed intent on making him wait a long time, and when he finally cast a spell, he did it wordlessly so that Harry couldn't tell what he'd hit him with. He knew for certain it was no Body-Bind, though; instead of immobilizing him completely, the magic settled on his arms and legs as if a heavy weight had been placed on them. Harry tested the strength of the spell and realized that, with great effort, he could move his fingers and toes a little, but his arms and legs seemed to be made of lead. Without thinking, he leaned against the constraints with all his might and felt a surge of panic when he was firmly held in place. Suddenly, he was fourteen again, tied to the gravestone and struggling against the ropes that bound him as Pettigrew stalked towards him, knife in hand. Harry strained every muscle that would still obey him, desperate to break free, to get away...

 

It only lasted a second until he remembered where he was. The panic subsided, but his heart was racing, and it took all his willpower to force his muscles to relax. Only now he noticed that Draco was sitting on the bed beside him, watching him. "Everything all right?"

 

Harry nodded, a bit too quickly. "I'm fine."

 

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Yes, that's quite obvious from the way you're shaking. Potter, I'm going to ask just once: do you want me to stop this?"

 

Harry turned his head to look at him. "No. I trust you."

 

Draco shrugged. "How perfectly Gryffindor of you. Let's proceed then, shall we? I think you know what's next." He reached for something on the nightstand; when he held it up, Harry recognized the silver letter opener he'd given him for Christmas. His eyes never leaving Harry's, Draco tapped it with his wand; again, he didn't speak an incantation, but the letter opener twisted and changed shape until he was holding an old-fashioned straight razor, the blade glinting in the light of the candles.

 

Harry swallowed and tried to take some comfort from the fact that Draco held the thing with a practised ease that suggested he really knew what to do with it. Perhaps safety razors were considered too Muggle in the pureblood circles he'd grown up in – right now, Harry hoped rather fervently that they were.

 

"Stop panicking, Potter, I know how to use this. I suppose you don't, by the way, but that wouldn't have kept you from trying it out on me, would it?" Draco smirked at him. "Considering this, I think I won't make it quite so easy for you. _Caecus_." He waved his hand in front of Harry's eyes once, and Harry's vision darkened. Within a few seconds, he was completely blind; before he could protest, Draco's voice cut him off. " _Silencio_."

 

"Now, my dear Harry," Draco added with a trace of malice, "we'll find out how far your trust goes."

 

Harry felt the touch of something slick and soapy on his face; then the cool blade began to slide over his cheek, and he did his best to keep completely motionless. "It's funny, really," Draco said almost conversationally while he tilted Harry's head to the side, "my father used to tell me that shaving was one of the few things a man should always do himself. I wonder what he'd say if he could see me now, with your life in my hands and no-one around to stop me if I should decide to press down just a little too hard?"

 

The razor was sliding lower now, towards Harry's throat and neck, and Harry stopped breathing. His heart was hammering against his ribs, but it wasn't from the panic he'd experienced before. He'd never have thought that being magically blindfolded and gagged while a very sharp knife was wielded in close proximity to his throat could in any way be considered stimulating, but there was something terribly erotic about being completely at Draco's mercy. The fact that he couldn't see what was going on heightened the sensation of the cool blade pressing against his skin and the warmth of Draco's hand on his face; Harry shivered with a mixture of anxiety and arousal when the razor grazed over his Adam's apple. He'd never felt so exposed in his life, and yet he couldn't remember ever being this turned on, either.

 

Then the blade was gone, and so was Draco's hand; Harry heard him murmur a _Finite incantatem_ , and his vision returned. Draco was leaning over him, a strange expression on his face. "You know, the spell that holds you down is pretty powerful, but I'm sure that someone who can throw off Imperius would be able to break out of it if he believed his life was in danger. You really trust me, you great Gryffindor fool, don't you?"

 

Harry never got a chance to reply because in the next moment, Draco's mouth was on his. It was a rough, almost brutal kiss, as if Draco were angered by Harry's faith in him. Harry kissed back with everything he had, glad to relieve some of the built-up tension by biting and sucking until Draco was moaning into his mouth, his hands clenched painfully into Harry's hair.

 

It was Harry's turn to moan when Draco's mouth moved lower and started sucking on his neck, hard enough to leave a mark. He ran his hands over Harry's chest, nails grazing his nipples until Harry arched into the touch as far as the restraints would let him. He felt Draco smile against the skin of his neck, and then the blond head was sliding lower still until his lips closed around a nipple. Harry gasped when Draco's tongue swept over the hard nub, once, twice; then he bit down hard, and Harry cried out, straining against the spell that held his arms down. Draco lifted his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "I forgot to stick to the script, didn't I? You said I was to begin with the tips of your fingers."

 

Harry groaned in protest at the loss of contact when Draco shifted position, but only until he felt Draco's teeth nibble at the fingers of his right hand while Draco's own fingers drew little patterns into Harry's open palm. Fighting against the spell, he managed to push his fingers past Draco's lips just a little bit; Draco obviously got the message and began sucking them, his tongue grazing the sensitive skin of Harry's fingertips until Harry was panting. Although Draco was only touching his hand, Harry's whole body was tingling; he felt his groin tighten and began to fear that if Draco kept going just a moment longer, he'd come on the spot.

 

As if he's been reading Harry's thoughts, Draco let go of his hand and moved down again, planting a string of soft little kisses on the inside of Harry's arm and lingering a bit to lick the places where he knew Harry was ticklish. Harry was torn between the reflex to squirm away and the desire to lean into the touch, none of which the spell would let him do. He was beginning to sweat as Draco's mouth moved lower, pressing tantalizing kisses on his chest and stomach until his hair brushed the head of Harry's straining cock. Harry gasped again, his hips bucking up almost on their own accord, but Draco shook his head and, giving Harry's groin a wide berth, began to lick his way down the inside of Harry's thighs.

 

"Draco, please..." Harry hadn't meant to speak, but he felt as if any more teasing would make him explode. Draco looked up; his face was flushed, and he sounded a bit breathless himself when he asked, "Begging yet, Potter?"

 

Harry couldn't have cared less about his dignity at this point. "It's too much – I can't – _please_..."

 

To his surprise, Draco complied immediately, as if he'd only been waiting for Harry to start begging; a second later, Harry's cock was engulfed in the wet heat of Draco's mouth. Draco's fingers dug into his hips, holding him in place as he began to suck. Harry cried out again when Draco ran his tongue over the underside of Harry's cock – he usually wasn't much of a screamer during sex, but this was different from anything he'd ever experienced, and he kept panting and pleading while Draco's head moved up and down along the length of his shaft, taking him in as deep as he would go. He knew fully well he wasn't going to last any time at all. Heat was pooling in his groin, the muscles in his stomach and thighs clenched and spasmed, and when Draco finally pressed a crooked finger into the spot behind Harry's balls, he came with a breathless groan, spilling himself into Draco's mouth and whimpering at the feeling of the back of Draco's throat constricting around the head of his cock as he swallowed.

 

While he was still trembling with the aftershocks, Draco was beside him, and Harry realized he could move his limbs again the moment Draco kissed him. He clutched at Draco's shoulders, desperate to get closer, and hooked a leg behind his knee until Draco's erection was pressed firmly against his stomach. Draco, who was panting just as hard as Harry, began to rock against him, and Harry pushed his tongue into Draco's mouth, eager to taste himself there. Draco's movements were quickly growing frantic, and Harry half expected him to come too, but he suddenly broke the kiss and pushed Harry away.

 

"Oh no, Potter," he growled, his voice hoarse and raspy, "you're not getting away so easily."

 

+++

 

If Harry had been nervous about this part of the evening before, the feeling was now lost in a haze of warm, content afterglow. He'd willingly complied when Draco had told him to roll over and was now lying on his stomach, his arms wrapped around a pillow while a second one was propped under his hips. His limbs were growing heavy with post-orgasmic bliss as he settled down into the soft bedcovers, enjoying the smoothness of the fabric against his sweaty skin. Through half-closed lids, he watched Draco, who'd calmed down remarkably although his hard cock was still flushed deep red against the pale skin of his stomach. Draco had been rummaging through the nightstand drawer and was now turning back towards Harry, a small bottle in his hand and a triumphant smirk on his face.

 

"Ready for the last stage of your dirty little fantasy, Potter?"

 

"Mmmh." Harry burrowed his head in the pillow and closed his eyes. "Whenever you want."

 

Draco gave a disdainful huff. "I hope you're not planning to keep up that dead meat act? Necro isn't really my thing."

 

Harry grinned without opening his eyes. "Then you shouldn't have been quite so thorough right now, I'm afraid. Not that I'm complaining, mind, but I'm completely knackered."

 

"We'll see about that." The bed dipped as Draco climbed back in and, straddling Harry, settled down on the back of his thighs. Harry sighed as Draco's weight pressed his hips into the pillow; there was no way he was going to get it up again within the next hour, but the slight friction on his softening cock when Draco shifted around a bit was still nice. "You shouldn't forget about my remarkable potions skills, Potter."

 

"Mmh, 'kay." Harry was really getting drowsy. "Come up with magical lube or something?"

 

He could practically hear Draco's self-satisfied smile when he answered. "It's a bit more than just that."

 

Harry heard the plop of a bottle being uncorked, and then Draco's hands were on his back, dabbing an oily liquid on his skin and starting to rub it in. A curious warmth seeped into his muscles while Draco's hands were massaging his shoulders, working out knots that Harry hadn't even noticed before. "Feels good?"

 

"Yeah." In fact, it felt positively divine, and Harry was all but purring when Draco's hands slid lower, spreading the potion down his back. The sensation of warmth seemed to spread further through his body with every movement of Draco's hands; he felt a slight prickling on his skin that was quickly growing in intensity. Harry inhaled sharply and realized it came out as a gasp. "Draco, what -"

 

"Neat, isn't it?" Draco's voice was smug, although he was sounding a bit short of breath. Harry felt Draco's thighs clenching around his own when Draco's hands worked their way down to his arse, stroking and kneading the taut flesh until it was burning with the heat of the potion. Draco climbed off him and slid down between Harry's legs, pushing them open and working the potion into the muscles of his thighs; by now Harry felt as if his whole body was glowing with the strange heat that was soothing and arousing at the same time. Draco's finger, slick with the potion, was slowly pressing into him, and it was suddenly easy to relax against it, to feel it slide in and out and spread the strange, tingling warmth inside him.

 

Then Draco's hands were back on Harry's arse, spreading his cheeks, and Harry braced himself; it had been a long time since he'd last bottomed, and even with the preparation, it was probably going to hurt a bit. Remembering past experiences, he tried to relax his muscles, ready to push back against Draco when he entered him. It therefore caught him utterly by surprise when the pressure he felt against his entrance was not from the tip of Draco's cock, but from his tongue.

 

Harry blushed crimson. This was something he'd never considered doing or having done to him; it was filthy and disgusting and – and... and the tip of Draco's tongue, wet and so very warm, was pushing inside him, moving in and out like his finger had done before, but it felt a hundred times more intense. Without conscious effort, Harry opened up to the intrusion, eager to hold on to the sensation; then the tongue worked its way down to the underside of his balls and back up again, and Harry stopped worrying about the thoroughness of Draco's Cleaning Charms and allowed himself to let go. It shouldn't have been possible to be this turned on without even being hard, but his heart was racing, his body hot and heavy with an almost painful desire, aching and wanting and _needing_ with every fibre.

 

"Fuck, Draco, _please_... !" What had been intended as a quiet plea came out as a ragged cry, but Harry was past caring. Looking back over his shoulder, he saw Draco sitting back on his haunches, sighing softly as he slicked his cock with the potion, and Harry lost it completely at the sight of the glistening head pushing into the circle of Draco's fingers. He buried his face in the pillow, spreading his legs further and pushing his hips back, and then, finally, Draco's weight was on him, his cock slowly pressing into Harry, past the tight ring of muscles and deeper inside until he filled him completely. He stilled for a moment, and Harry groaned in protest. There was some pain, but he didn't mind; he wanted Draco to move, to _take_ him, to give him everything that he had, without ever realizing it, believed he could never have because of who he was. He felt Draco's ragged breath on the back of his neck and heard him whisper, hoarse and breathless, "God, Harry, you've no idea... wanted this for so long..."

 

"Yes..." Harry could think of nothing else to say. "Yes, Draco, please –"

 

Draco began to move then, slowly and carefully at first, but he soon sped up his pace until he was thrusting into Harry with long, hard strokes; his harsh panting intermingled with Harry's sobbing gasps as they fell into a rhythm that was quickly becoming frenzied. Harry felt as if he were on fire, Draco's thrusts inside him sending jolts of searing heat through him, as if the rest of his body was trying to compensate for his spent cock by orgasming all over. He'd be sore as hell tomorrow, but he couldn't have cared less. He could tell Draco was close – his muscles were beginning to clench, his movements growing erratic. His heartbeat was hammering against Harry's back, and when he finally came with a shudder that reverberated through Harry's body, he bit down on his shoulder, his groan muffled by the sweat-slicked skin. They collapsed on the bed together, Draco still buried deep inside Harry, both trying to get their breath back.

 

+++

 

Harry felt a pang of loss when Draco pulled out and rolled off him. The prickle of a Cleaning Charm washed over him, and then Draco was back, throwing a blanket over the two of them and stretching out next to him.

 

"How do you feel?"

 

Caught by surprise, Harry opened his eyes which had begun to fall shut, and saw Draco propped up on his elbow, looking down on him with a quizzical expression on his face.

 

However, the question wasn't hard to answer. Harry reached up and smoothed a wisp of damp blond hair away from Draco's forehead. "I feel great. Perfect, even."

 

Draco smirked at this, although his usual haughtiness was somewhat ruined by his flushed cheeks and swollen lips. "Who'd have thought that all it takes for the great Harry Potter to be perfectly happy is..."

 

"You," Harry finished quietly.

 

"...my dick up his ar- what?"

 

"You," Harry repeated and pulled Draco's head down for a kiss.

 

It wasn't a very passionate kiss, sated and exhausted as they both were – just a soft, almost tender touch of lips and tongues, slow and languid. It made Harry's whole body tingle with a warm feeling of contentment he'd never experienced before. Somehow, it was like coming home to a place you'd been looking for all your life.

 

He half expected Draco to pull away, but he didn't. On the contrary, neither of them seemed willing to end the kiss. When they finally broke apart, there was a look in Draco's eyes Harry had never seen, and he couldn't help wondering if he was getting a glimpse of Draco with his defences down for the first time. He knew that Draco probably wouldn't acknowledge it, but something had changed tonight.

 

"I hope you really meant it when you said you wouldn't mind people knowing about us."

 

Draco blinked; this clearly wasn't what he'd been expecting Harry to say. "Yes, of course I meant it. Why?"

 

His expression quickly turned suspicious when Harry began to grin. "Potter, what did you do?"

 

Harry was trembling with suppressed laughter now. "Remember when I put down my wand on your desk?"

 

"Yes, wh- " Draco paused, his eyes growing wide. "Please tell me you did _not_ take down the wards to make Moody watch us!"

 

"Hey, what kind of perv do you think I am?" Draco relaxed, but only until Harry added innocently, "It was just the Silencing Spell, really."

 

Draco blanched. "And these walls are an inch thick. Oh, _Merlin_."

 

"I doubt he could understand everything we said..."

 

"...but definitely the bit where you were begging me to fuck you at the top of your voice!"

 

Harry winced slightly. "I'd forgotten about that."

 

"Oh, for..." Draco reached towards the nightstand for his wand, flicking it at the wall with more fervour than was strictly necessary. " _Silencio_!"

 

Then he slumped back on the bed, his face buried in his hands; his shoulders were shaking, and it took Harry a second to realize that he was laughing.

 

For a moment, he just stared. Tears were streaming down Draco's cheeks between his fingers; he was obviously trying to remain silent and failing miserably because after a few suffocated gasps, he gave up and threw his head back, howling with laughter. Utterly relieved, Harry joined in; he'd have been hard-pressed to say what exactly was so funny about the whole situation, but he laughed until his sides hurt and he was having serious trouble breathing. Draco was curled up on the bed, both arms wrapped around himself and his face bright red, gasping for air and shaking all over. Harry could not remember a time since their school days when he'd looked so young and carefree – as if they'd stolen back a moment of their youth that had been taken from them by Voldemort and his war.

 

Once they'd finally calmed down, Harry felt his exhaustion catch up with him at last. He'd been running on pure adrenalin for the past few hours, but now his eyelids were drooping, and he was about to drift off when a thought struck him.

 

"I wonder what Moody is doing right now."

 

Draco's voice was equally sleepy when he answered. "He's probably hiding under his blanket with a pillow over his head."

 

Harry chuckled softly. "Poor Alastor. Must be hard to have your world view come crashing down around your ears."

 

"Tell me about it." Draco yawned and for once didn't protest when Harry snuggled up to him. "I suppose he'll have to live with it."

 

"Yes," Harry murmured with a smile, his face buried in Draco's hair. "He will."

 

 

 

 

FIN

 


End file.
